I Keep This Moment
by If Dreams Were Wishes
Summary: A collection of Christmas memories from the Storm Hawks' childhood. A companion to "Shattered" and "Hide and Seek," but I don't think you necessarily have to have read them to understand these little oneshots. Fifth and final oneshot: Junko.
1. Finn

**Hello everyone! Yes, I'm alive and writing once again. I won't go into the gory details, but lets just say I've spent all my time writing essays and exams the past two months (around 10 essays and 7 exams including midterms), so I have done no creative writing what-so-ever :( But my term is over and I've got some spare time, so here I am!**

**Since I haven't been writing in the past little while, I felt like I needed to get used to writing the characters again before I jumped back into "Shattered," so I figured, why not write a collection of Christmas oneshots that is a companion to "Shattered"? So, here it is. Each oneshot will be based of a quote from one of my favourite Christmas songs: "Wintersong" by Sarah McLachlan and show a Christmas memory for each of the characters based on the families I created for them in "Shattered" and "Hide and Seek." There are five: one for Finn, Stork, Aerrow and Radarr, Piper, and Junko. I'll post one each day for the next 5 days, which leads us right up to Christmas! I have 3 of the 5 already written, so I don't think the task will be too difficult!**

**And to my "Shattered" readers: Thank you for your continuing support and patience. Think of this as a little treat and re-introduction before I get back to the main fic. I'm hoping to have at least one chapter out before the year ends. Please enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Storm Hawks, nor the song "Wintersong" by Sarah McLachlan (there is also a new, lovely version released this year by The Canadian Tenors ft. Sarah McLachlan that I encourage you to check out).**

**And now, we start with Finn:  
**

* * *

"_The lake is frozen over,  
The trees are white with snow,  
And all around,  
Reminders of you  
Are everywhere I go."_

"Come _**on**_, Grace!" Finn called across the lake, waving to his sister.

"I would, if you wouldn't go so _**fast**_," Grace complained as she hurried to catch up with her little brother.

The girl's skates scrapped the ice, leaving a thin trail in the light layer of newly fallen snow. She twisted around in a figure-eight, just to annoy Finn, who had yet to master the trick. The younger boy's pout was met by his sister's gleeful grin. As Grace busied herself with some more fancy footwork, Finn skated to the edge of the lake, where the snow was piled high from an earlier clearing of the ice. Quickly patting snowflakes together into a tightly packed ball, Finn couldn't hide his smirk as he stood and turned to await his sister, the potential missile hidden safely behind his back.

An unsuspecting Grace approached. "Now who's the slow—eek!"

The older girl never finished as Finn's expertly aimed snowball hit her on the shoulder, the icy flakes melting against her wool scarf and down her neck.

"Not funny, Finn!" Grace protested her brother's giggles as she ripped off her scarf and shook off the snow. "Oh no, it's gone down my back! Well, I hope you think it's funny that we have to go home now. I can't stay out in this cold with my back covered in ice water!"

Finn stopped laughing, but he just couldn't get his grin to vanish. He allowed Grace to grab his hand and lead him to the other side of the lake. There, they untied the blades from their boots before walking up the path to their town.

It had always been a favourite activity of their family to go skating once the lake near their town had gotten a good layer of ice. They'd take the short path through the woods, admiring the snowy coats of the trees and the sparkling kisses the sunshine gave to the wintery land. Finn and Grace's parents had taught them to skate almost as soon as they could walk, and the four had taken every opportunity to glide across the frozen lake. Even though it was now only the two of them, Grace insisted they keep up all the family traditions. This being their first Christmas season without their parents, it seemed to be even more important to Grace than ever to keep these little memories alive.

"I'll make hot chocolate when me get home—just like mom used to," Grace said cheerfully, as they trotted through the trees. "And add a few more logs to the fire. I hope it's still burning. Dad was always the best at that sort of thing."

Finn just nodded, his gaze on the ground before him.

"Are you alright, Finn?" Grace was always quick to pick up on her brother's moods.

"Fine." Finn responded, but the dullness in his tone told Grace the opposite. However, it appeared she didn't want to push the issue, as she said nothing more. Neither of them were feeling all that cheery these days. Grace was just trying her best to fake it for Finn. He wondered if Grace knew he was just as perceptive of her true feelings as she was of his.

Entering the house through the back door to the kitchen, the pair kicked off their boots and shrugged off their jackets. Grace collected their wet hats and mittens, hanging them by the fire after throwing on another log. She then headed back to the kitchen to turn on the kettle for the hot chocolate.

Finn peeked through the doorway between the kitchen and living room, Grace having left the door ajar. He watched his sister search through the cupboards for the hot chocolate mix and marshmallows. She was reaching for two mugs when her hand paused. Finn had to stand on tiptoe to see what her fingers were grazing: their mother's favourite teacup.

Grace's hesitance lasted only a moment. Her hand moved on to take down the two mugs next to the cup and before she closed the cupboard firmly. Grace was stirring chocolate mix and milk into two mugs when Finn heard the choked sob. She was trying to hold it all in again.

Finn pushed to door open with a loud squeak of the old hinges. Grace stiffened, frozen at her spot by the counter top. Coming up behind his sister, Finn reached up and wrapped his arms around her waist. Grace was quick to wipe her eyes and pat Finn's hand.

"Almost ready, Finn." Grace didn't turn around, they both knew any attempt at strength would fail if she did, "Go wait by the fire and I'll be out in a minute."

Finn didn't argue, but he scuffed his feet slowly to show his reluctance. He plopped down on the couch with a sigh. He lazily turned his head to the crackling fire, having always been amazed by how the flames engulfed the charred logs. Finn had hardly settled back into the cushions before Grace entered the living room, carefully balancing the two mugs and a plate of cookies on the tray. Handing Finn his mug, Grace took her own and lay the tray and cookies on the cushion between them.

The siblings quietly sipped their hot chocolate and nibbled on their sugar cookies. Finn glanced at Grace through the corner of his eye. She was staring into the fire, her eyes showing the far-off look of thought.

It took Finn a few more minutes to get the courage, but he finally asked: "Why are we doing this?"

Grace did nothing for a moment, then suddenly appeared to realize the comment was directed towards her. She glanced at her little brother with a quizzical look. "What do you mean?"

"Skating, and hot chocolate, and fires," Finn elaborated_._

"Because it's tradition." Grace answered, eyes still on the fire. "It's what we always do."

"But _**why**_?" Finn still didn't understand.

"To remember the past and special memories."

"Like mommy and daddy?"

Grace paused before she spoke again. "Yes." She finally turned to look at him. "It's important to keep traditions, Finn. If we do things we used to with mom and dad, it will help us not forget them."

"But I don't need all that stuff to remember mommy and daddy."

Grace was taken aback, she could do nothing but stare at her little brother. After a moment, she gave a weary sigh and fell back into the cushions of the couch. "Do what you want, Finn. I'm not forcing you to do anything if you don't want to."

Finn was confused. Why was Grace so sad? Was it _**his**_ fault this time? He could never tell anymore. Placing his mug back on the tray, Finn slid off the couch. He made his way over to the pile of boxes in the corner—the Christmas decorations Grace had planned for them to put up the next day. Coming to the old rocking chair that stood beside the boxes, Finn found what he was looking for folded neatly on the seat: his quilt—the one Grace had made him for his birthday with all the special pieces of fabric she'd collected over the years.

Grace was already back to staring into the fire, oblivious to her brother's movements. She sat, a still doll, as Finn moved the tray to make room to sit next to her. It wasn't until he draped the quilt over both their laps that Grace sluggishly turned to her gaze away from the flames.

"This is all I need to remember." Finn said simply.

Grace's lips turned up slightly in a nostalgic smile as her hand swept over the multicolour tapestry. Her fingers stopped over a rough, black patch.

"Dad's old pants." she whispered.

"He ripped them skating, remember?" Finn asked, smiling at the memory of his father's many falls.

"Yes," Grace chuckled softly. "He was never very solid on his feet, was he?"

"Mom said it was like he was always walking on ice, even on dry land!" Finn laughed.

"And dad would say it was only so she wouldn't get bored, having lots of muddy shirts to wash and ripped pants to mend."

"And this one!" Finn pointed to a white patch with green holly and red berries, "This was mom's table cloth."

"You're right." Grace sat up, leaning closer for a better look. "She saved it only for Christmas, but we still managed to stain it beyond help."

"That's 'cause she used to put _real_ chocolate in the hot chocolate," Finn commented.

"It never came out that time after we spilled both our mugs, when we were fighting over the last cookie," Grace recalled.

They both laughed, remembering their mother's exasperation_. _Wrapping an arm around Finn's shoulders, Grace gave a content sigh as she pulled her brother closer.

"Thanks, Finn." Grace gave him a kiss on the check, to which the younger boy scrunched his face in annoyance. "I guess we don't have to do _**everything**_ the same as before. It's not the same, after all. Things... change. We should make new traditions to go along with the old ones."

"Yah," Finn agreed, pleased that he was able cheer up his sister.

"Oh, remember this one?" Grace laughed, pointing to a piece of brown felt. "That's from that _**hideous**_ gingerbread man costume aunt Kate made you two years ago. I should put those pictures in a safe place. They'd be great blackmail material when you get older and are an even _**bigger**_ handful!"

* * *

**As always, thanks for reading and feel free to review.**

**Also, check out the poll on my profile and vote for the fanfic you want me to work on next (after "Shattered" is complete, of course).  
**


	2. Stork

**Hello again. I have no reviewers to thank, so I'll send my thank yous to all who read the last oneshot. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Now, on to day two: Stork!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Storm Hawks, nor "Wintersong" by Sarah McLachlan, which is quoted below.**

* * *

"_It's late and morning's in no hurry,  
But sleep won't set me free._

_..._

_When silence gets too hard to handle,  
And the night too long."_

Stork's left eye twitched.

He lay on his cot, staring blankly above him at what he believed to be the ceiling—for all he knew, it may not be there anymore. He was worried, more than usual. On a typical night, two hours of tossing and turning would be all the merb needed to ensure a decent night's sleep, but he was now into hour five of this impromptu wake-athon and no reprieve appeared to be coming anytime soon.

So what was a merb to do? Grab a broom, hard hat and headlamp and roam the ship, of course! If he couldn't sleep, he might as well do a patrol. Stork had been down in the wastelands fixing the Condor for a few months now, and he knew that it was probable that some giant of a monster could attack at any moment, bringing with it his ever-nearing doom—every day he lived brought him one day closer to death, after all.

It was with that pleasant thought that Stork stepped into the silent hallway. His footsteps echoed along the metal walls as he made his way to the bridge, his makeshift weapon gripped tightly to his chest. A quick scan by his newly installed intruder-detector device showed exactly what Stork feared: it appeared that the Condor was completely empty—just how he _**usually**_ liked it.

Why did Stork _**want**_ his detector to pick up a presence on his precious ship? Well, it all had to do with the fact of what _**day**_ it was. Or, to be more precise, what _**night**_ it was. It was a least one in the morning already and there was no sign of _**anyone**_. It had him worried. It had him _**very**_ worried.

Maybe he'd done something wrong? Stork glanced down at the runway through the front window. No, the red and green lights he'd put out this morning were all still in working order. They twinkled randomly like a bunch of malfunctioning traffic lights. The effect was almost blinding—Stork had to wonder if that was why no hungry beasts had been attracted to such an obvious sign of life. Still, no one should have any trouble finding his position _**tonight**_.

Still... maybe the engine room wasn't in order? Stork headed down, just to triple-check his display. But he found everything as perfect as when he'd left it hours earlier. In the centre of the room was something that resembled an odd, new form of modern art. It was supposed to be a tree. Stork had welded some scrap metal at different heights along a pole for branches. Useless electrical wires served as garland, while an impaled head of merb cabbage topped the whole thing off. Next to the crystal engine hung a three-toed sock Stork never wore anyway. He knew the engine wasn't exactly a fireplace, but it was the closest thing he had.

Everything seemed to be in order. So where _**was**_ he? Had he come and the trap not worked? Stork poked the rug he had layed in front of the engine with the end of his broom. The large spring beneath gave way and the rug was caught in the net that fell from the ceiling. Nope, no problem there.

What could he be missing? He'd had done everything right to lure in his prey. Stork _**needed**_ to catch him! How could he miss this opportunity to get so many supplies to fix up the Condor? Not to mention he'd make great monster-chow—probably keep them full a whole week!

Stork decided to consult his instruction manual once more. Whipping out a book titled _The Night Before Christmas_, the merb scanned through the pages one more time.

"_The stockings were hung by the chimney with care_..." Stork mumbled, his eyes zipping back and forth as he frantically flipped pages. "_The children were nestled all snug in their beds, while visions of sugar-plums_—drat."

Throwing the book over his shoulder—it crashed into the "tree" and knocked the whole mess over with an odd _clunk_—Stork slumped off to bed with a sigh of defeat.

"This is just too much," he mumbled darkly. "How could anyone expect _**me **_to have sugar-plums dancing in my head?"

Stork suddenly stopped, the gears in his head shifting to overdrive. "Unless they're sugar-plums of _**doom**_! Yes! They're sugar, right? Sure to bring horrible cavities, maybe even gum worms and teeth mites... yes, I see now..."

And the merb headed back to bed, prepared to dream of sugar-plum doom for the rest of the night.

* * *

**So, at what point did _you_ figure out what Stork was up to? Hehe**

**I think Stork is becoming my favourite character to write. It's just so fun to get inside his head! But I don't think I want to know these sugar-plum-of-doom dreams he conjured up...**

**Also, you may have noticed I skipped two lines of the song. My only reason is that they didn't work with the oneshot. I was disappointied not to include them, but that's just how it is sometimes.**

**Anyway, thank****s for reading, and please review (don't be shy!) I'm especially fond of constructive criticism. This is practice for me in writing these characters again. If something feels off, please don't be afriad to tell me!**


	3. Aerrow and Radarr

**I'd like to send a big thank you to Denvana! You're two reviews really made my day :) It's nice to know someone is enjoying these oneshots. And don't feel bad if you did not have the time to review. This is a busy time of year and everyone has lots on their plates, I'm sure (I, myself, have church choir practices every day :S). So, no pressure or anything, just enjoy!**

**I don't have much else to say, other than to encourage everyone to vote on my poll. It's a 4-way tie right now, so it's not much of a help in my chosing which fic to wrtie next!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Storm Hawks, nor "Wintersong" by Sarach McLachlan.**

* * *

"_And this is how I see you:  
In the snow on Christmas morning,  
Love and happiness surround you  
As you throw your arms up to the sky.  
I keep this moment by and by."  
_

"_**Mom!**_" Sky screeched over her brothers' laughter.

Their mother enter the kitchen with a defeated sigh, this being the fourth time she'd been called in to resolve an argument this morning. "What is it this ti—oh my."

There was no other explanation: a blizzard must have ripped through the kitchen. Everything was covered in a layer of white. The children's bright red hair was dulled by the powder, making them look like snowmen topped with Turkish delights. Radarr had faired no better, his matted fur making him appear to have icicles growing from his back.

A closer look, and one noticed the bowels, spoons and measuring tools littering the kitchen counter—now also bleached white—and the large, open bag of flour that lay on the tiled floor, obviously having fallen from its place among the other cookie ingredients.

The sky monkey and children merely stared back at their mother as she took in each one of them: Sky's checks flushed red with rage, Claus' triumphant smirk, Aerrow's sheepish grin and Radarr's wide eyes, his ears standing straight in shock. The woman's face was stone as she turned and left without another word. Four pairs of eyes meet each other's worried gazes before they were all blinded by a flash.

"Alright, smile this time!" their mother laughed from behind her camera lens. "You're father is going to _**love**_ this."

"Mom, do we have to?" Claus whined.

"Yes."

They all knew there was no arguing with their mother when she had the camera out, so all four culprits smiled in hopes that their pain would be short-lived. Five more flashes later, the camera was put away and the quintet was lined up in front of the counter.

"I guess I made a mistake, thinking you were all old enough to mix the cookie dough while I set up the tree," their mother sighed, seeming more disappointed than mad.

"We would have been _**fine **_if Claus had just not helped in the first place," Sky stated, pointing an accusing finger at her brother.

"I'm too old to be doing stupid things like make Christmas cookies." Claus grumbled.

"Not too old to eat them, though, are you?" his mother asked, an eyebrow raised to emphasize her sarcasm.

"Well, Sky's was being bossy again!" Claus defended.

"Me and Radarr kinda dropped the flour," Aerrow offered.

"I guess you all have some fault then," their mother concluded. "Fine, we'll all clean up and make some more cookies together, okay? And _**everyone**_ helps, _**no one**_ bosses and Aerrow _**doesn't**_ touch the flour."

"Okay," the children chorused, Radarr adding in a chirp for good measure.

"Now, do we have everything out?" their mother asked.

It was two hours later. The kitchen and its occupants were no longer white, all having received a good scrubbing. Bowls, spoons and ingredients were once again spread across the counter and the five cookie makers sitting on stools along its length—Aerrow strategically placed as far away from the newly bought bag of flour as possible.

"Yup!" Aerrow answered excitedly, standing up on his stool for a better look.

"Calm down now, sweetheart." His mother picked him up and sat him back down. "Claus and Sky are going to make the dough and you, me and Radarr are going to flatten it with the rolling pin and cut out shapes, okay? So be patient."

Aerrow sighed, laying his arms and head on the counter in a bored fashion. His mother merely chuckled, ruffling his hair before turning to his two siblings. "Claus, you crack the eggs, and Sky can measure out the flour and water."

They soon had a well-oiled production line. The two older children mixing the dough, their mother rolling it out, and Radarr and Aerrow using cookie cutters to make different holiday shapes before placing the cookies on a pan. They were on their third tray when the oven chimed the completion of the first batch. The children eyed the cookies hungrily as their mother placed the hot pan on the stove top to cool.

"They're too hot right now, you'll have to wait," she warned.

"We make a good team, don't we?" Sky asked.

"Yeah." Claus admitted, albeit, a little reluctantly.

"I bet we can make _**thousands**_ of cookies!" Aerrow exclaimed.

"And I'm sure you'd eat them all too," their mother laughed.

Suddenly, Radarr jumped up and down excitedly on the counter top, pointing outside as he chirped happily. The children gasped and rushed to the window as large, fluffy flakes fell lazily to the bare ground.

"The first snowfall!" Sky cheered, clapping her hands happily.

"Yes! Snowball fights!" Claus joined in.

"And tobogganing!" Aerrow chimed, jumping along with Radarr.

But the merriment was short-lived, as the children turned back to look at their unfinished cookies. Their mother laughed at their longing looks.

"Go on," she said. "I'll put the next batch in the oven. Just dress warm, alright?"

"Yes!" her four helpers cheered as they rushed to grab their snow gear and be the first outside.

* * *

**I'm guessing some of you may be interested in the ages of some of these characters:**

**Well, the first oneshot about Finn wasn't long before "Shattered" started, so I'd say he was around 8 years old (give of take 2). Stork's oneshot was when he was fixing the Condor, so he's not much younger than he is in the show itself. This third oneshot is working of an idea from the Christmas fanfic I wrote last year: "A Winter's Night." One of the pictures Aerrow finds in the hidden box is of he and his siblings baking cookies. In that same fanfic, I said that the pictures were from the last Christmas before the Cyclonian attack and that Sky and Claus were 12 and 13 when they were killed in the attack. So, I'd say in this oneshot, Claus is about 12, Sky 11, and Aerrow between 6-8. ****In the next two oneshots, I picture Piper and Junko to be around the same age as Finn and Aerrow. **

**None of these ages are cut in stone of anything. The ages are always in a range for me when I write, not an exact, certain year. So, if you think they seem older or younger, then maybe they are! I leave definite age decisions to my readers. Make them as old or as young as you wish. These were just my assumptions when I was writing.**

**As always, feel free to review and thanks for reading!**


	4. Piper

**Big thanks and holiday hugs to my lovely reviewers: Denvana, ilovestormhawks, and Thing With No Talent (by the way, I do not believe you have no talent. Everyone has talent)! I'm so glad you're all enjoying these oneshots. I hope they get you in the Christmas spirit :)**

**Now, onto oneshot #4: Piper!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Storm Hawks, nor "Wintersong" by Sarah McLachlan, but if anyone wants to give them to me for Christmas, I won't complain ;)**

* * *

"_Sense of joy fills the air,  
And I daydream and I stare  
Up at the tree and I see  
Your star up there."_

Piper giggled as her feet left the ground, each hand held snugly by her parents as they swung the little girl between them. The cool evening air whistled through her ears and stung tears into her eyes, but Piper didn't care. Her father had told her this was the coldest winter he could remember, and there might even be a chance they could have snow for the first time! Piper knew her parents worried about the chilling temperatures and their home's insufficient heating, but she liked getting to snuggle in bed with them on particularly cold nights.

As she landed back on solid ground, Piper gasped at her first sight of this year's Christmas tree. It stood tall in the middle of the village square, its branches thick and full. It was a tradition in their village to have only one tree. The men would take the day trip to a terra that grew pines and buy a tree from money collected from the entire community. Each family had a certain ornament or decoration they brought to put on the tree, that was decorated one evening about a week before Christmas. It was always a big celebration, with singing, dancing and food. The usually warm climate made this outdoor event—and the one on Christmas day itself, when the whole village came together to open presents—pleasant and comfortable, but it was almost cancelled because of the weather this year, except the men had brought warm coats home for everyone along with the tree.

"Did we make enough garland, mama?" Piper asked, eyeing the basket her mother carried with concern.

"I sure hope so," her father chuckled. "You two strung up every bead we had in the house! You even took the ones off the necklace you made me, Piper."

"Don't worry, papa," the little girl assured. "I'll make you a new one after we get all the beads back."

"Alright, but it better be the nicest one yet," her father said in mock seriousness.

Piper just giggled, reaching up to shack the large hand her father extended to seal their agreement. Her father truly was a gentle giant, towering over everyone else in the village along with the Christmas tree. Piper's whole hand didn't even fill her father's palm, but he gently wrapped his fingers around her's and shook lightly.

"Everyone here?" a voice called from among the crowd, answered by a confirming applause. "We'll start trimming the tree then!"

"Let's go!" Piper cheered, taking the basket from her mother and rushing to the tree.

Her parents laughed at their daughter's excitement and followed at a more reasonable pace. When she arrived at the base of the tree, Piper turned and waited for her parents, arms crossed and toe tapping in impatience. Her father wrapped an arm around her mother's shoulders as they strolled. She was a tall woman in her own right, her limbs long and lanky, but there was delicacy in her thin frame, and an effortless beauty in her features. Piper had been told many a time that she was a mirror image of her mother, right down to their midnight-blue hair.

"I expected you to start without us," Piper's mother commented as the pair approached.

"I can't," Piper stated.

"And why's that?" her father feigned innocence.

"I'm not tall enough, and my arms are too short," Piper elaborated.

"They are?" her mother questioned, hiding a smile behind her hand.

Her father turned to look at his wife, his voice laced with humour. "She looks fine to me."

"_**Mama! Papa!**_" Piper whined, but her annoyed expression soon fell into a plea. "_**Please**_, will you help me put the garland on the tree?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," her father chuckled, bending down to scoop up his daughter.

Piper squealed as she was lifted to her father's shoulders. Her mother passed her one end of the garland and the pair reached up to lay the long, beaded string along the branches. Starting near the top, they ran the garland around and around until they reached the bottom of the tree. Stepping back along with all their friends and family after all the last decoration was placed, they admired their work.

"Just one thing left," Piper's father noted, picking up a large, golden star. "Piper, would you like to help me?"

"_**Can**_ I, papa?" Piper asked, eyes big and bright.

"Oh course," her father laughed. "I just asked you, didn't I?"

Piper soon found herself back on her father's shoulders. He held her ankles and she placed one hand on his head for balance as she stretched to place the star on the very tip of the tree. As the pair stepped back, there was a loud cheer and applause from the crowd and some started to sing _O Christmas Tree_.

Piper sat down on her father's broad shoulders. Resting her head on top of his, Piper gazed at the star, shining in the lights from the tree below. She smiled happily, proud to have been included in her father's annual tradition of topping the tree.

The heat from her father's body rid the chill of the air, and Piper found herself fighting against her drooping eyes. She thought she saw a little white star land on the pointed tip of the tree. Blinking to clear her eyes, Piper found that there were more little stars falling from the night sky.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Why, it's snow!" her mother gasped in wonder, having come to stand beside them.

The air was filled with the tiny flakes. Piper held out a hand and caught one. She had only enough time to admire its intricate patterns before is dissolved into a little droplet of water in her palm.

"It's magic!" Piper threw back her head and looked skyward in awe. "Christmas magic."

* * *

**I think this one has my favourite ending, even if Stork's is my favourite overall. I think it's all pretty straight forward, plot-wise. Piper's terra has a warmer climate, in case you didn't pick up on that (though I think I made it pretty obvious), so snow really is magical to her!**

**As always, I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing it, and please feel free to leave thoughts, comments and criticisms in reviews!**


	5. Junko

**Here's the final oneshot in this little collection. A little late (it's only 25 minutes after midnight where I live, so it's Christmas!), but I was terribly busy today, as I'm sure many of you were.**

**Thank you to ilovestormhawks for the review! You've asked twice about a Dark Ace oneshot, and I'm sorry to say there won't be one. I guess you didn't read my little spiel at the beginning of this collection, or it may just be that you haven't read my fanfics "Shattered" and "Hide and Seek" and don't know the bases of these oneshots. Either way, I'll try to explain: This collection is a companion to two fics I wrote/are writing about the past of the Storm Hawks (just the squadron), and it focuses soley on those 6 characters. Since I haven't been writting them in a few months, this was a nice exercise to get back into the characters. I'm sad to say that the Dark Ace will only make a small cameo in a later chapter of "Shattered." Also, I had all these oneshots planned (and most written) before I started posting. Sorry! (if you really like the Dark Ace, I focused on him more in my "Sky Prince" series, which includes the fic "Sky Prince," "You'll Come Back" (he's got chapters to himself in this one) and "Sky Prince Chronicles").**

**On to the final oneshot: Junko :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Storm Hawks, nor the song "Wintersong" by Sarach McLachlan.**

* * *

"_And this is how I see you:  
In the snow on Christmas morning,  
Love and happiness surround you  
As you throw your arms up to the sky.  
I keep this moment by and by."_

"Aren't you two cold yet?" Junko's mother called from the open door.

Junko and his father looked up from the giant snow wallop they were building in their front yard. Their snow creation appeared to be a life-sized model of the older wallop, down to his broad shoulders and pointed horns. Poor Junko, having always been small for his age, hardly reached his father's—or the snow wallop's—waist.

"Of course not!" his father replied, laying a hand on his son's shoulder. "We're the toughest pair of wallops on the terra! A little cold and snow can't stop us. Right, son?"

"Yup!" Junko beamed, standing tall and proud.

His mother sighed fondly, shaking her head at the pair. "You can pretend as long as you want, but you're not fooling me. You're both turning bluer by the minute. I only need one snow wallop, thank you very much."

Ignoring their protests, she came out and forced hats on their heads and mitts on their hands. Father and son grumbled, but both knew better than to argue with a female wallop once she had her mind set.

"Get rid of those sour looks," her expression was stern, but Junko caught the amused twinkle in his mother's eyes. "It's Christmas, after all."

After dressing "her two men"—as she so often called them—a little better for the weather, Junko's mother turned her attention to their frozen masterpiece. Producing a scarf and some round rocks from her pockets, she wrapped the wool garment around the snow wallop's thick neck. She gave the stones to Junko, who was quickly lifted up by his father to place them in the form of eyes and a mouth.

"Perfect!" Junko grinned when their wintery statue was complete. "Thanks, mom."

"Thank me by coming in out of this cold and eating the cookies I just baked," his mother insisted. "They're your favourite: squid and sprout."

"Can I try my new toboggan first? _**Please**_," Junko begged.

"I don't see how one run down the hill could hurt," his father seconded.

"Fine," the female wallop sighed. "But only _**one**_ run. You two better be back here in fifteen minutes or there'll be hell to pay."

It was only after promising multiple times to come straight back to warm up that Junko's mother allowed her husband and son to head off. Junko sat on the toboggan as his father pulled it along as if it was empty. The young wallop bounced with excitement, his anticipation growing with his father's every stride. He loved sliding down the steep hill not far from their house. The older wallop children would build massive jumps, and if he was lucky, Junko would be at the hill when they weren't in use. He relished in the few seconds of weightless flight before he crashed back down to the terra. Junko often wondered if that was how it felt to land a sky ride.

Junko closed his eyes and imagined he was flying, his toboggan beneath him becoming his skimmer. He could hear his father's deep breaths, his crunching footsteps, the toboggan's smooth hiss as it ran over the snow—the wind in his ears as it whirled around him. Lying on his stomach, Junko spread his arms and legs like a bird, letting his flying dreams run wild. However, the young wallop had forgotten to take into account the steep slope of the hill he was ascending. He soon slid off the back and into the snow, crying out in surprise as his face hit the chilly flakes below.

Laughter rung in Junko's ears. The mocking voices seemed to surround him, there was no escape. Maybe if he just stayed face down in the snow, they would lose interest and go away. But all to soon, Junko felt his father's familiar hands grip his waist and stand him upright.

"You okay, Junko?" he asked, wiping flakes from his son's face.

"Look at the _**Gleep**_!" came the shrill, hurtful call of a young wallop, the comment followed by agreeing laughter of the other wallops who were out sledding.

Junko's face was turning red. He sniffed at the cold stinging his nose, doing his best to hold back the tears that itched his eyes and threatened to fall.

His father saw his son's watery gaze right away. "No tears," he said sternly, hands gripping the tiny wallop's shoulders. "That's not what a wallop does."

Junko bit his trembling lip, but nodded all the same. A few blinks of the eyes and a sniff or two more, and the threat of crying would be over. After taking some deep breaths, Junko nodded again. He was fine.

"Don't listen to them," his father advised, his expression softening. "You'll grow bigger than all of them some day. You're just a little late, that's all."

"You think so?" Junko asked.

"Know so," his father confirmed, letting Junko help him pull the toboggan the rest of the way. "Now come on, we're almost at the top."

Cresting the hill, Junko was taken aback by the wondrous sight below him. To his left, he could see their small town, covered in a blanket of snow. The houses looked like they were made of gingerbread, thick icing smoothed over their roofs and windowsills. To his left, the bare trees of a vast forest, each glistening with the layer of ice that encircled their coats of bark. Junko was seeing a winter wonderland, just like in the picture books his mother read to him.

"Ready?" Junko's father asked, holding the toboggan steady for Junko the mount.

With a gleeful laugh, Junko jumped on, holding the rope tight in his fists. Mere seconds later, his father pushed him as hard as he could and Junko sailed down the hill. Shouting in exhilaration, Junko steered towards a large ramp made of tightly packed snow. He held his breath as he waited the eternity it seemed to take for him to launch. Then there was no ground below him, just endless air, crisp and cool.

This was flying.

This was weightlessness.

This was _**freedom**_.

* * *

**Okay, I actually have a note on this one:**

****

For any of my readers who are also following "Shattered," you'll remember Junko realized in the last chapter that his view of his father was tanted and this was supposed to show his father before all the family problems and issues a little later on in Junko's life. The father in this oneshot is what Junko chooses to remember. This was the first idea to come to me when I started brainstorming for this collection. The lyrics "This is how I see you" and "I keep this moment by and by" really lean towards the idea of this being one of Junko's fonder memories of his father.

****

Also, while recently re-viewing episodes for parts of "Shattered," I came across something I'd forgotten: that a name Junko was called as a child was "Gleep." It was too late to include it in the earlier scene where Junko's bullied, so I decided to stick in here!

So, to all my readers and reviewers, thank you and I hope you enjoyed this little bit of Christmas cheer :) If you're still itching for Storm Hawks Christmas fanfics, I've written one the past two years as well. "Radarr's Christmas" is a funny little thing anyone can enjoy, and "A Winter's Night" is a more somber piece that is also a companion to "Shattered." And if you're a fan of the Digata Defenders, I wrote a songfic way-back-when to "Wintersong" (yes, the same song quoted in this fic. I just can't get enough of it!). Goodness, I feel like I'm really putting a plug in for myself here ;)

**A Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all. I'm hoping to be back before the New Year with a new chapter for "Shattered." And while you're waiting, well, who knows, maybe I've inspired you to go write a Christmas fanfic of your own!**


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